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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265364">Fast to react, Slow to learn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxie/pseuds/deluxie'>deluxie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, More tags to be added, dad mode engineer, engiespy comes later but i love that ship too, i promise you will get your food, idk what youd call this, rivals to lovers?, scout is permanently pissed at pyro but pyro is just a PILF( parent id love to FRIG), this is just for my serotonin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:28:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxie/pseuds/deluxie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with his team’s Pyro, Scout grows to (much like the rest of their team) fear them – it takes the undue chagrin of the rest of his team to realize what’s really going on and to bring them together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Engineer/Spy (Team Fortress 2), Pyro/Scout (Team Fortress 2)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This isn't my first fanfiction by any means, but it is my first TF2 fanfiction, so apologies if it's a little sloppy :)) I just hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Normally, Scout was far from afraid of getting in danger. Dodging and skirting past bullets just to get to the intel, blazing through like it was nobody’s business – the thrill always got him. What he could never handle quite so well were the quieter moments; bodies laying across the floor, a quiet battlefield, even moments of peace in his own recreational time. So -  when he finally arrived back with the enemy’s intelligence after very, very narrowly avoiding their ire, the sight of his team’s Pyro standing alone among piles of bodies (with no other members of their team in sight), it took him a bit aback.</p><p>He was never one to really pay attention to the details of others, god knows – and especially not him. Yet something about this little moment struck him as Pyro stood, staring at him, flamethrower still in hand and breathing heavily, bodies of their team and the other’s alike, still standing after everyone else had fallen. It struck him in that moment that this – WHATEVER this is – was in some way, deeply, deeply, fucked up.</p><p>And it was on that moment that he vowed not to set foot near it for a good, long while.</p>
<hr/><p>Naturally, by the time everyone was just about ready to burst, a voice boomed across the speaker – ONE POINT for RED. Scout whooped, and made his way back to the communal area, knowing that there wouldn’t be much of a need to help anyone pack up. Debating how to spend his time, he decided that he deserved a little break after having to have spent a few seconds more still than he would’ve liked, and kicked up his feet on the coffee table. Flicking through the channels, Soldier sat next to him and they chatted about their days idly.</p><p>“Dude, I still can’t believe you never collected baseball cards or anythin’ like that. I swear it would’ve been right up your alley.” he said, poking him after noting his confused face at the television ad. Scout rummaged through his pocket, pulling some of his most recent catches out – the shimmery foil mesmerised Soldier as he snatched one for himself, getting his hands all over it.</p><p>“Hey, watch out, I haven’t put any protective pla-“</p><p>“What cover does it need? It’s a piece of shimmery plastic, son!” he said, still keeping his eyes fixed on it while Scout scrambled to retrieve the card, to no avail. Engie strolled in, ruffling Scout’s hair and plonking himself in between the two of them, deftly taking the card for himself. “You still collect these?”</p><p>Scout nodded, looking at him intently. Engie smiled, pulling out a card – again, one with shimmery foil, but with that distinct tear and layout. His mouth flew open as he stared at what must be one of those quickly recalled reproduction cards, and it flew yet wider as the words “Wanna trade?” rang through his ears, having been given back his own card.</p><p>“Uh, duh! Dude, I’m doing you a favour, you don’t even know how worthless these things are in the modern day-“ Before he’d finished talking, Engie had taken the card, passing it to – no. To an immediately uncloaked Spy, who had just amassed two more rather coveted cards. The two high fived as Scout looked on in disbelief, earning a flick on the head from Spy.</p><p>“Sorry, kid. Man wants his shinies.” Engie said, shrugging as he sank deeper into the sofa, getting as lost as Soldier in the dull noise of the TV. Before Scout could open his mouth to protest yet again, a warm, unusual smell filled the room. It was basically unrecognisable, and he wasn’t sure who’s turn it was to cook – not that anyone really followed the rota that much.  Either way, food is food, so he strolled into the dining hall, to find someone he wasn’t quite prepared to see.</p><p>Pyro sat at the foot of the table, a large, seemingly meat-filled pie sitting at a plate in the middle. It had been a general rule of thumb that one should only cook if they were genuinely able to (Soldier had avoided many a duty by this rule), so this was a surprise. The Pyro waved, mittens gloving their hands as they patted a chair next to them. Scout rolled his eyes practically out of habit, and made for the fridge, grabbing some noodles for himself. “Sorry, buddy, not getting poisoned today.” This was hardly an exaggeration – many a well meaning merc had served dinner only to genuinely poison their teammates, much to the medic’s ire. He filled the pot with boiling water, the Pyro looking at him.</p><p>His shoulders slumped a little, and then he trotted out to the common room, waving at everyone else, shouting something unintelligible about dinner. Scout used this opportunity to slink past to the dorms, and moving back through the back entrance to the communal area, eating his dinner on top of the table and ignoring the world, disgruntled by the events of earlier. Once done, he strolled outside for some practice, putting a little more into it than he’d really liked – then flomping onto his cot in the dorms, finally hitting the sack.</p>
<hr/><p>“Mornin’, Scout.” Engie waved to him as Scout came in for breakfast the next morning, sipping at a bitterly black brew of coffee. Scout made a face at it, then poured some juice for himself.</p><p>“Saw what happened yesterday?” he asked, not looking up at him (as far as Scout could tell).</p><p>“Mmmm, nope.” he replied, covering his face with the glass.</p><p>“Pyro made us all dinner last night, didn’cha hear? Fella was so excited, you could see his gas thingy steaming right up.”</p><p>“Haha, weird. What, just cause we won? Could’ve asked someone actually good at cooking to make something for us instead.”</p><p>Engineer furrowed his brows, sipping on his coffee. “Not many tried it. Seems they followed your example, Scout.” He stared at him for a good while, Scout avoiding his gaze. “C’mon. No reason to get on Pyro’s bad side, Scout.”</p><p>“Have you SEEN-“</p><p>“Yeah, and that’s no reason to reject a gesture of seemin’ goodwill.”</p><p>“Seeming.”</p><p>He shook his head. “You get my point.” Engie strolled to the door, coffee still in hand as if he was about to leave. He hung in the doorway for a good few seconds, giving Scout one last good look before he strolled off, Scout just barely hearing “It was damn good pie, too.”</p><p>Scout rolled his eyes, pouring cereal for himself and sitting on top of the counter, barely thinking any of it. What did he care? All he wanted to do was get his job done, and done fast. That’s all he wanted, and he didn’t really have to give a shit about anything else. He didn’t want anyone getting in his way – not Spy, not Soldier being a fucking idiot, not a dumbass BLU Demoman ruining his perfectly good plan.</p><p>And certainly not his own team’s fucking Pyro.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pyro woke the next morning, rolling over in bed lazily. He’d hardly slept a wink last night, and for good reason, too. The slight embarrassment of the previous evening had kept him up, and though he wasn’t usually one to worry about these things, something about that night didn’t really sit right with him. Either way, he shrugged it off and brought a bowl of cereal back to his room the next morning, munching it as he pulled the spoonfuls under his mask hastily.</p><p>Sure, this really wasn’t any way to eat, but in his opinion, each person had their own rituals when it came to eating. His weren’t really any different. Plus, he’d eaten dozens of these rushed, slightly plasticky meals in varying degrees of danger for almost all his life, so there was hardly anything to complain about. The drab décor of his room, little artwork or ornaments hung up on the wall save for old souvenirs from home, hung about limply as he opened the curtains, humming an old childhood song. He was half tempted to call over Engineer and attempt to wrangle a song out of him before he’d have to start again, and shrugged, deciding to act upon his whims for once.</p><p>Casting a quiet glance over to the door, he pulled the mask back down his face again as soon as he’d finished eating, wiping his mouth before he did. Pushing the privacy flap up, he observed the mercenaries hanging out together in the common room. Demo had just told an elaborate story regarding confiscated scrap parts, which had caught the attention of Soldier, who began an only slightly fabricated story of his own. They were pretty much famous for always being top notch, and he noted each of the present Mercs listening with rapt attention. He even caught himself listening in too, before realising he might be caught and quickly closing the blind.</p><p>He sighed, wondering if he’d ever really have the guts to make another move like he did last night. It’s not that it’s impossible – he knew he could do it, and believed he had confidence in himself. A little pit in his stomach prevented him from stepping out there once more and, hearing the first warning bell sounded for the day, he was forced to cast those thoughts from his mind entirely. All he could really do was do what he did (nearly) every other day: keep calm, and carry on.</p>
<hr/><p>Pyro gravitated about idly with his team’s Engineer. He was pretty accustomed to doing this, only changing his routine when the team called for it – plus, it let him observe the comings and goings around spawn. Today, the Engineer seemed rather curiously spaced out. He would attend to his buildings in an almost rehearsed fashion whenever Pyro walked around the corner, and didn’t even respond when barraged with (literal) friendly fire. Pyro almost had to resort to making farm animal sounds at him before he finally got his attention.</p><p>Swivelling his whole body around in a quick jump, he let out a little gasp, opening his mouth briefly before he spoke. “Pyro, y’almost scared the living daylights out of me.” he said, immediately whacking away at his sentry again, “Well, or moonlights. Can hardly tell down here.” He took his gaze up to the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, the dead flies collecting under their heat.</p><p>“Hell, where even is this place? Feels like it’s been forever since we were first stationed here. I mean, most of us, at least.” He said, dusting off the sentry next to Pyro, making him lean inwards a bit. “That new medic seems to have adjusted more than fine, though.”</p><p>“’Least I know through it all, us vets can fall back on each other. Ain’t that right, Pyro?” he said, accentuating that first <em>Pah-</em> as he always does, a light chuckle escaping his voice. A glimmer just up ahead caught Pyro’s eye, and, with a light slap on the back from Engie, he soon made quick work of the incoming attackers, fighting like hell to keep them at bay.</p><p>He’s always enjoyed working with Engie, and today was no exception – though as always, there was something deeper that stirred inside Pyro during the usual lull of battle. It wasn’t the need to kill, but more the need to have some kind of power – and, as the enemy finally began their push, spurred on by their victory yesterday, that desire was finally sated. He didn’t have to care what anyone thought of him, and nobody would have to care the same for him. Did it even matter whether they win or lose?</p><p>All he had to do was watch the flesh burn to ashes in front of him. All he had to do was watch it burn and float away.</p>
<hr/><p>“Pyro?” a hand tapped him on the shoulder, Pyro’s hand holding firmly onto a hearty pastry of sorts. He tilted his head up, and, upon registering it was their team’s Medic, sighed a little not-so-internally. “Ah, I can see you do understand English. Come with me, Pyro.” The man smiled that slightly too large smile that he usually did, and left without waiting for him to get up. Pyro trotted down the hall with him, waving to everyone still dining in the canteen – as he usually did when he left to eat for the night.</p><p>Once they arrived, Medic sat him down on the little sofa he had set up. The seats were a plastic, faded and chipped red, and Pyro was pretty sure they hadn’t even been replaced since he joined. Again, the lights emitted a constant low hum, disallowing even the slightest reflective pondering as he sat in the room. Medic flicked through some odd files idly, appearing to get some last-minute work done before seeing him, and then turned his front to Pyro.</p><p>“Pyro, I understand your performance lately has been… hmm… sub-optimal, shall we say?” he said, examining the paper in his hand as he spoke. “Now, that is not usually a cause for concern, ja? However, you understand that this is not an isolated incident.” The paper was passed to Pyro without pause.</p><p>“I am sure I need not remind you of incidents OC10, SEP9, and of course, the Spa-“</p><p>“Mrpth!”</p><p>A light grin emanated from the Medic. “See? You do understand what I mean, no? Judging by your emotional reaction, I am sure you wish this to be resolved as much as I, and the rest of the team do.” The words on the report seemed to blend into one another. To him, it seemed to outline a mixture of an exercise regime and practical battle training – the schedule, combined with Pyro’s daily efforts on the battlefield, seeming to leave little room for free time. They set the paper down, and looked at him again.</p><p>Medic’s face furrowed. “Do understand that this is a voluntary arrangement – albeit, one that I believe you should undertake. After all, I’m sure it would raise your standing once again.” He circled the room, clicking his pen and setting it back in his labcoat. “Judging by your already lacklustre track record and prior… efforts, I trust that you agree.” A slight twinge resounded in Pyro’s chest, and his fingers willed themselves to his pocket. Removing a pen, he clicked it once, and hovered his hand over the papers. A slight smile curled on Medic’s lips – and, with the final setting down of pen on paper, turned back into that somehow familiar feeling smug grin. Removing the papers from the desk as soon as they were signed, he filed them away in a folder, and opened the door.</p><p>“I’ll see you again at 5AM sharp, <em>kleine Flamme</em>.”</p>
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